Greetings Family,

I am Andre’s eldest daughter, Imani. It is with the heaviest heart that I must confirm this tragic news. At 11:57 pm on Wednesday, December 29th OUR Brother Andre passed away due to complications from Covid.

I am still in a state of utter disbelief. At the start of December he had a full physical and was declared in perfect health. We celebrated by sneaking off on a father-daughter date and sharing Hungry Man breakfast platters at the Watertown Diner. Extra pancakes. Just another Thursday.

Then about a week later what started as a small, manageable cold turned into a trip to the emergency room for shortness of breath. The overnight stay just for observation turned into specialized round-the-clock care in the ICU. We FaceTimed him for hours just to hang out while he grumbled about being told to lie on his belly. When we asked if he needed anything all he said was, “An exit strategy!” He just wanted to come home. But then he needed a ventilator, which meant full medically induced coma. It just happened so fast. Out of nowhere his kidneys started to fail. But we held fast to hope, prayer, and the wonders of modern medicine, especially with all the practical knowledge gained this far into the pandemic. But Covid caused his blood to clot which made it too thick to filter through dialysis. They changed the filter three times but it became clear they needed to start another line through a major artery. But at that point he was just too fragile to start another line. Too fragile to move.

The hardest thing to grasp was how fragile he became. We watched his oxygen levels tank as a nurse took his blood pressure as gingerly as possible. He couldn't tolerate the smallest movements in attempts to change his position to prevent bedsores. But even if he lay completely and perfectly still and no one touched him at all, his oxygen levels would dip and flow erratically.

Without a new line for dialysis, his kidneys failed. Then it was just a matter of time before the levels of toxins and acid in his blood rose to lethal amounts.

Andre was full of life, he wanted to live, we all wanted him to live. He fought so valiantly. In the two weeks he was in the hospital we got five separate phonecalls where the doctors warned us he might not survive the next 24 hours. But each time he rallied and sustained. Every measure was taken because we all wanted him to have as much time and opportunity to heal and to fight. He fought long and hard, and I am so grateful that he gave us Christmas.

My father once told me that when he was a kid some neighborhood bullies picked him up and threw him into the deep end of a pool because they knew he couldn't swim. But what did Andre do? He stayed calm, sank to the bottom of the pool, and walked out. Because that's the kind of man he has always been: thriving under pressure, thinking with such poignant clarity, and being stylish as hell while he's at it! Despite understanding the severity of his condition, I genuinely believed he would walk away from this, too.

Brother Andre still walks with all of us. He was a titan and a pillar of the community. He was so kind, so generous. I remember being in the car and waiting at a red light and a bike messenger complimented his house music, so of course my dad reached over and gave him the cd straight out of the console. He made believers out of all of us. He was blindingly intelligent. He was always, unequivocally the best dressed. He was ridiculously funny. When I was a kid I asked my mother how they met and fell in love and she waxed poetic about him for hours. They hated each other when they first met. He was bouncing, she was bartending, and it was only through proximity that they went from enemies to coworkers to reluctant friends. Then deep, genuine friendship. Until one day she got a bad case of shingles and thought she'd have to take care of herself, but Andre came by every single day to bring her soup and do her laundry. And she thought, if he has seen me at my worst and takes care of me in sickness and in health then this man is a keeper. When I asked for his side of the story he jokingly said, “She was pregnant when I met her.” He was so humble, would always say he was ‘just being human.’

He took such great care of all of us. He was a chef, a chauffeur, a laundry god, an artist, an advisor, a confidant, a comedian, a champion of the people in all walks of life.

I'm sorry for those who were blindsided by his sickness and his death. I hope that this brings you some clarity and closure. Please know that the ICU was bumping with house music! Know that we were able to be with him in the end to celebrate his transition and release. Please know that his last words were, “If this is it, know that I’ve loved you all!”

We are all hurting from this huge loss. At some point we would like to hold a Be Free in his honor. To uplift him in death the way he uplifted each and every one of us in life. No one is more deserving of a liberating, life-affirming, dance your feet off celebration, where we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Brother Andre will be standing sentinel at the door. Our guardian and protector. But with the new Omicron variant surge, our family could not in good conscience have a memorial service at this time. We would not want anyone else to experience what we've gone through during the past few weeks. Please get your booster shots, wear masks, and write a will!

Our Brother Andre was just 54 years young. His death was wholly unexpected and we were unprepared. I'm putting together this GoFundMe for medical expenses, funeral costs, and household loose ends. Any contribution would be greatly appreciated.

Thank you all for the memories you've shared. Thank you for the outpouring of love, help, and support.

Know that he loved you all.

Peace and blessings,

Imani, Farrah, & Sally